As the war comes to an end
by whereowhere-is-my-rabbit
Summary: A portal has opened into 1977 Hogwarts, but where does the other end lead to? Revamping. Please RR
1. Prologos

Disclaimer: this is for the rest of the story. I own nothing. Everything is the property of J.K. Rowling who though I envy greatly and wish I had her imagination, talent, and, most of all, money, would not disrespect her and take credit for her works. I would also like to mention that the idea of the Dark and Light thing comes from David Eddings books and also doesn't belong to me. I just liked the concept. And some concepts also came from Janny Wurts series (who is THE best author around) The Wars of Light and Shadows. But most of this is my own idea. I am very sorry if it seems similar to other people's fics, but I came up with this idea myself and haven't taken it from anyone else. Now…on with the fic, and if you want to you can review (which would be appreciated)

**PROLOGUE**

The teacher continued speaking to her mismatched class, oblivious to the mock duel occurring in the back seats of the classroom.

"…to seers there are no such things as dark and light. Both are essential to life. If there was no dark, then how could light exist? It would not. There would be no way to define the darkness, as nobody would ever have known it. And the same goes for the light. They are two parts of the whole. A balance must always be maintained between the two. If something happens to the dark, something of equal magnitude must happen to the light, and vice versa. The dark of old and the light…"

* * *

A ceremony of some kind is taking place. In a clearing in a forest three people stand before a male and from all their right wrists blood is dripping. Many others surround them. Another person steps forward and the ritual starts again…

* * *

In another class elsewhere…

A man walks down the aisles of students who are all staring intently into their bowls of water, murmuring words and occasionally writing down notes. He praises each of them as he passes.

"Well done Benson. I can see that you have deciphered the first part of the puzzle. Good. Now try looking at the next two lines of the riddle and following the line of thought of the two you decoded, see if you can discover what they are saying…"

"Excellent Miss Johnson! You've already managed to conjure images relating to your prophecy…Is that a man and a child? And they seem to be flying through the air on clouds? Yes? You are on the right track then… "

He continues in this fashion until he reaches the last desk in the last row. The student seated here is muttering feverishly, then peering into his bowl before frowning, frustrated, at his notes.

"And what, pray tell Mr Jones, are you doing? Don't tell me you're still hooked on that ridiculous child's rhyme!"

As the student hung his head shamefully, the teacher continues angrily.

"I have already told you! That rhyme is not a prophecy! There are some things that are prophecies and some things that are not and a child's rhyme is certainly included in the 'not' category! Now kindly do some real work like the rest of your colleagues!" he added tartly.

The other students grinned sympathetically as the chastised student emptied and refilled his bowl and crumpled up his notes…

* * *

A ring of dark-robed people stands around a tall hooded man. The air is musty, and all would be dark if not for the dim light coming from the grimy ceiling. The tall man whispers in a sinister voice that makes even his followers shiver, as he unfolds his plan for them to hear, and they discover just how far he wants to go…

* * *

An old man sits in a bed. Since the attack he cannot move much for fear of reactivating the curse that drains his power and sanity, turning him into a mindless zombie to be controlled by the enemy that looks no different from the outside…

* * *

A young man sits on his bed and cries out the pain in his heart as he mourns the mother and grandmother lost in an attack by followers of the Dark Lord. His foster brother stands outside his door and weeps also; for the pain of losing those as close to blood to him as anyone will ever be, and for the pain his best friend is going through… 


	2. 1: Of portals and freakily smart p

**CHAPTER 1**

**Of Portals and freakily smart people**

He ran up the grassy grounds of Hogwarts and raced up the marble staircase, sprinting along the corridors until he finally skidded to a halt outside a door.

"Professor, Professor! You will not **_believe_** what we just saw! Come on!" He panted, pulling on her hand as he went, forgetting just who this teacher was.

"Potter stop tugging my hand this instant!" Professor McGonagall snapped irritably as she was towed along after the frantic teenager. "What on Earth are you babbling about?"

"It was just there when we got there… I swear that it wasn't our fault this time. We didn't do a thing! I _swear_… but you'll just have to see. I think I know what it is but I'm not sure…"

Glancing at the occupied boy next to her, the Professor could not believe how depressed he had been less than five months ago. He had recovered remarkably, and although his eyes still clouded over when he heard anything relating to the loss he had suffered, he was much better. They continued to rush out of the school and over the lawns until they reached the edge of the forest. Here Professor McGonagall shot a suspicious look at the young man, but he just hurried along around the forest until he came to a place where there was a small path. The trees blocked out the view of the school before the pair had gone more than a few metres.

Professor McGonagall gave her companion a sideways glance, then cleared her voice and spoke in hushed, slightly sarcastic tones, "I'm very sorry to interrupt our little expedition but where exactly are we…" She broke off and stood stock-still, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide.

She stayed like this for a few moments before she partially collected herself.

"Potter…" she managed to break out before she stopped again. "Potter", she started again in a somewhat stronger voice, "Go get the Headmaster."

As the boy sped away to do her bidding, she forgot all dignity and sat on the floor. If this was what she thought it was, and what she thought Potter thought it was too, then this would mean a whole lot more work for her. She sighed and buried her head in her hands. And she had just finished marking all the homework!

* * *

It was three weeks after they had discovered the portal, and they had still had no luck. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and a whole lot of other useless titles, had called in a select few trusted people he could trust who specialised in portals and teleportation devices, charms, hexes, the history of magic, magical creatures, curses and recognising Dark Arts and how to counteract them. Some of these people could already be found at the school, such as the tiny Professors Flitwick and Binns, and of course Albus Dumbledore had the largest collection of magical knowledge out of almost anyone that Minerva knew. He had summoned a little over ten people altogether, and although they were all some of the most scholarly and learned in their field, they had been unable to shed much light on what the portal was, how it came to be, and why it was there.

Minerva McGonagall felt like banging her head against a tree. She was beginning to loathe that tall, forbidding oval shape with the surface of shifting silvery light. Some of those studying it had suggested half-heartedly throwing a rock into it just to see if the wretched thing would have a reaction, but those who still had a smidgen of hope left (and a bit more sanity) realised that this could trigger some kind of reaction.

But the option of what to do was soon taken out of their hands. It had been four weeks since the portal's discovery, and the scholars were sitting dejectedly in front of the protective wards that they had put up around it, offering an idea every few minutes or so, but mostly just staring blankly at the portal as if wishing it would just suddenly spit out the answers they'd been searching for.

Maybe the portal was activated by their joint longings, or maybe it was just the right time, or perhaps it had finally got sick of having clueless people throwing spells and counter-spells at it in an attempt to get rid of it. Whatever the reason, four weeks, two days, one hour, and approximately sixteen minutes after Albus Dumbledore had first seen the portal, a man came stumbling out of it. He staggered out of the silvery sheet, and stared around wildly, before narrowing his eyes and looking again. When he reached Dumbledore, his eyes widened in surprise before he narrowed them again, this time in anger.

"Whadda ya mean by this, eh, Dumbledore?" he spluttered out, slurring his words in his annoyance, "What are ya leading us on a wild goose chase for, eh?"

The assembly stared at him. Dumbledore was the first to recoup.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, faintly puzzled, "A wild goose chase? I'm afraid I don't seem to know you."

"Prob'ly not, seeing as I'm only a _lowly auror,_ but what business is it of yours to go around creating portals and worrying the Ministry of Magic? You know as well as anyone else that we have more important things on our hands then to be worried about potentially dangerous gateways!" replied the stranger angrily.

"Excuse me young man", broke in old Barnabus Crumbly, one of the experts on Charms, "But you should show a tad more respect for your elders! There you go again!" he exclaimed as the newcomer opened his mouth heatedly, "interrupting folk when they're in the middle of talking! Now before anything else you should get your story straight. Albus Dumbledore did not create this here doorway, and he would not disturb your Ministry for such a petty thing as just to discover whether he could create one or not. Shame on you for not knowing better! Now," he said a bit more gently, "why don't you tell us who you are and where exactly the other end of this gateway is and we'll try and figure out what to do next."

But before the man could so much as utter a word, another figure came whizzing out of the portal.

"Jenson!" He began excitedly, "we think we know where this portal leads. But it would be unbelievable if it did! I mean _really_ unbelievable. I wonder…" but trailed off as he saw whose company he was in.

"Lennox? Is that you?" He inquired, peering inquisitively at the fortyish professor of magical history who looked rather startled that this strange looking old man knew who he was.

For this latest entrant was definitely more than a bit odd looking. He had white and grey hair, wisps of which seemed to stick up in every direction, as if it was permanently charged with electricity. He had a dishevelled appearance, robes with smudges of brown and grey on them, and spectacles perched lopsidedly on his thin nose. He was without a doubt a scientist and quite possibly a mad one to boot.

"Er, who are you?" Questioned Lennox, just as confused as everyone else there. Everyone but Dumbledore and the new arrival that is.

"I think I know what is going on", interjected Albus quietly.

Everyone immediately turned to him and stared dutifully, waiting for an explanation. The latest addition however bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager to share his knowledge and understanding of the nature of the situation.

"It seems", Dumbledore said calmly and still in that quiet voice, "that a time portal has opened into our very own Hogwarts-"

"Exactly!" interrupted the jittery scientist, speaking rapidly, "Precisely what our studies and _my_ theory proved! It's meant to be impossible, or only able to work under certain conditions, and even then it is only open for a short period of time, relevant to our time of course, but this, this is a scientific anomaly, it's unheard of, yet anyone can see that this portal is standing right here, as it definitely is, oh yes without a doubt it's standing right there, but…" The scientist ran his hands over his hair looking amazed and some part of Minerva's mind registered that this was probably the cause of it standing on end.

"I apologise, but could you possibly tell me where and what time you are from?" Dumbledore interjected. "You are in the year 1976", he added before the open-mouthed scientist could talk.

The scientist still looked amazed, then pulled himself together and drew himself up proudly, puffing out his chest, before he could answer though, the auror, who had been observing the proceedings quietly, straightened his back and spoke up. "We both work for the Ministry of Magic. Actually we were meant to go back and report to our superiors to tell them what we found out about this place ten minutes after we arrived, and it's been", he said looking at his watch, "over fifteen minutes, so I believe that we should go back and let everyone know that we are alright before we go any further."

"Hold on a second!" exclaimed the young professional on magical creatures, "We still have loads of questions! What about-"

"We will answer all your questions when we come back", said the auror firmly, "But right now we must get back. We will return in a few hours or days." And with that he turned on his heel, resolutely took hold of the robe collar of the scientist (who looked regretful and inclined to stay) and marched through the silvery light without another word.

* * *

A/N: What do you think? Feedback people! 


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